Renegade
by Chinatsu89
Summary: The situation did not loom so much as float inauspiciously above her. KxS Yuri. Read & review.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto neither the caracters it belong to Kishimoto-san

She never would have figured, not in a hundred years, not in a million, not in the _two _years that she'd spent here, that this sort of situation would loom over her like it was.

She had anticipated mistreatment, possibly some torture, heaping handfuls of sexual harassment, and maybe a death threat or two. She had even anticipated the forging of one or two friendships, and because she anticipated it, Sakura had been able to gather the psychological tools needed to build false friendships. False friendships that she would tear down in the end, pull the foundation out from underneath. She had dulled her emotions and deadened her conscience, and her sole objective during her stay in this dark, sullen, sad base had been to act as much a captive and semi-helpless little girl that all of the Akatsuki perceived her to be. She collected information and sent reports back as often as she dared. For the group of genius, dangerous, conniving S-class criminals that they all claimed to be, they were quite ignorant toward foul play among their ranks. After Sakura had molded a malformed bond of trust with each and every one of them, their harsh stares and calculating, precise moves around her began to fade. They became comfortable with her, and she was, to an extent, _accepted _as a reliable norm.

And true to her act, she'd pretended to not be so scared around them anymore. She moped about occasionally and acted depressed, and as the time wore on she talked less and less of her friends and family back in Leaf. They bought it. Every single one of them.

That, actually, was what she had thought. For the longest time, in fact.

It figured, though, that the only fellow woman in all of the Akatsuki would figure her out. And figure Sakura out Konan did. She hadn't confronted her at first, and had just let it slide. But she had appeared at some time when Sakura was writing a report back to The Fifth, running one of her slender thumbs across the scroll that Sakura was furiously scribbling in.

The ink disappeared as quickly as Sakura performed the seal, and Konan smiled and huffed from behind her. Sakura's heart beat violently inside her chest. "Konan," she said, standing up from her chair and turning to face the woman. Konan still had her cloak on—she rarely took it off—and was still smiling very faintly. "You…you didn't knock."

"My apologies."

Sakura swept the hair from her face. She was starting to sweat. This could be it. She'd gotten too comfortable, and now Konan had figured it out, and she would go tell Pein, and Pein would kill her. This was a consequence, though, one she had understood fully, and so she swallowed thickly and glanced behind her at the scroll. "I was just—"

"—writing home to your country," Konan finished for her, glancing around Sakura and to the scroll, now blank.

Sakura exhaled slowly and silently. Deep breaths. It was going to be okay.

Konan straightened abruptly, the amusement gone from her face. "I have ample reason to notify Pein of your actions," she commented, shuffling backwards. "And to have you killed."

She was caught. What could she do? Plead for her life? Apologize? Run?

"I know."

Or she could agree, and meet death with dignity, her head held high.

Konan sat back on Sakura's futon, folding her legs beneath that heavy Akatsuki cloak. "What would you have me do?" she asked, regarding Sakura with a muted glance.

"What do you mean?" She and Konan had been friends, as far as Konan knew. Maybe Sakura could get out of this yet. "You're letting me choose?"

"Not exactly."

Sakura moved to sit beside Konan on the futon, and then put her head in her hands. She didn't cry, though. She just thought, eyes wide and staring at the floor.

"I understand you," the female Akatsuki continued in that smooth voice of hers. "Where you're coming from, where you intend to go. Renegades have no lack of empathy."

"If you kill me," Sakura said, muffled by her hands, "do it quickly. And do it yourself, Konan."

Silence passed between them, in which Sakura decided that Konan was probably weighing her options, considering Sakura's request. She became aware in that moment that she and Konan were pressed tightly together, hip to hip. She wondered why Konan hadn't flinched away or moved at all, where she had always done so before.

"I would lie if I said that I haven't enjoyed your presence," Konan said, and there was more of a laugh to her tone than any hint of sadness. "Pein is…tiresome."

Sakura laughed in spite of herself. "And the others?" She didn't miss Konan's smirk.

"I doubt that I must explain to you the situation," she muttered, and whether she was talking about the other male Akatsuki or whether she was talking about Sakura's predicament, Sakura wasn't entirely sure. But she pulled up her head and touched the top of Konan's hand softly.

"Thank you. You don't have to do what you're doing."

"I never said I would spare your life, Sakura."

"I know."

Konan looked not at her, but at the bed behind them, the pillows fluffed neatly and the blanket creasing only from their weight. Her lips were chapped and dry, though the rest of her face was virtually perfect. She wore no makeup besides the heavy shadow over her eyes, but she didn't need to. Her skin was fair and virtually flawless. It was something Sakura envied, and she rubbed her red nose self-consciously.

But, she argued to herself, as Konan unzipped her cloak and set it aside, the woman was not without her faults. She was only human, after all, as much as Pein liked to believe otherwise. She may have had the appearance of an angel, but her mortality was an important component of the reality they all lived in.

"I won't kill you," Konan said, moving back on the bed so that she could cross her legs under her. She wore the sleeveless, showy ensemble that she usually did, and she fiddled with the zipper at her neck, unzipping that a bit as well. "How can I?"

"Easily," Sakura said. Why was she convincing someone to kill her?

"No," she replied sternly, and this time she looked at Sakura fully, though there was a melancholy expression about her face. "I can't. It's different."

"Because we're friends?"

"Because you are a woman. You are the same as I."

Sakura was startled. What did being a woman have to do with anything? She wasn't a _helpless _woman, and she wasn't an _innocent _woman by any means. She was not pregnant, she had no children, and as far as the Akatsuki knew, she hadn't much to live for. Why was it difficult—?

Konan put a hand on Sakura's, much like Sakura's had done to her. But her hand strayed to the waist of Sakura's black pants—standard-issue, ugly thing that Pein required her to wear—and lingered there, her fingers curling into the elastic.

The pieces were starting to come together, but Sakura took her time digesting this new information.

Meanwhile, Konan took full advantage of the silence in order to let that hand splay over her stomach, move up in between her breasts, and stop at her collarbone. She gradually urged Sakura down, until she was flat on her back, with Konan hovering over her. Looming, almost, except Konan did not loom so much as float in a mildly inauspicious manner. Kisame loomed. Kakuzu loomed. Pein loomed, on occasion. Konan just floated.

And then Konan was kissing her, and Sakura's mind was screaming off a dozen bells of equal surprise, warning, and delight. Surprise, because Konan was a _girl _and Sakura was a _girl _and were girls supposed to do this; warning, because Konan was still an Akatsuki, and even though she was kissing her now, and—oh, there was her tongue, apparently—she could still just be moving in for the kill; delight, because it was so pleasingly ironic that the _only female in an organization of men _was attracted to women. Also, Sakura could not deny that Konan was a pleasant person to have possibly sexually harassing her.

But Sakura wasn't resisting or denying Konan's touch, so it wasn't really sexual harassment at all, and she doubted Konan would care anyway.

To hell with it, she supposed. Konan was attractive and they were on a bed anyway and maybe this would grant her a Get Out of Jail Free card in the end. If she lived, this would definitely be a part of the story that she would _not _recount to the Hokage and her friends. Or anybody, for that matter.

The feeling of Konan's breasts against Sakura's was a foreign feeling that had her tingly and heady all at the same time. Konan was of a bigger build, with bigger breasts and wider hips and longer legs, and those hips pushed flush against Sakura's. Her bellybutton ring caught against Sakura's shirt and pulled it up just a little bit. Sakura pulled it the rest of the way up, and Konan pulled away long enough only to watch.

"You're not refusing it," Konan mused, as if bewildered by this observation.

Sakura shook her head. "Should I?"

"No."

Konan was kissing her again and pulling out the flower in her hair as well as the tie, and her hair fell in a curtain to brush Sakura's now-bare shoulders. Sakura shivered, Konan ran her hands over Sakura's breasts, squeezing lightly, and Sakura shivered for a completely _different _reason.

Presently, or not so presently, because it had felt like _years, _Konan unzipped her too-revealing shirt and pulled it completely off. The pants were removed as well, and the shoes, and the socks, and soon Sakura was just as naked as she.

"Wait," Sakura said, panting and trying to hide it while Konan pulled a nipple into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. "Wait, the door."

"It's locked," Konan hummed, and Sakura whimpered.

"You have amazing foresight."

"I know."

"And you'll have to excuse me if I'm not very receptive or animated, as this is my first experience of…this nature."

"Hmm."

One of Konan's hands was massaging Sakura's hip, but it dipped lower, to her thigh and then to the inside of it. At the stimulation, Sakura arched, and Konan slipped one finger through her folds.

"This is so weird," Sakura breathed. "Bizarre."

"It won't be in a moment," Konan said, and her usual calm demeanor seemed to be cracked. She was not animalistic or driven by uncontrollable desire, but she seemed significantly less collected.

When Konan slid one finger inside her and then joined it with another, Sakura felt distinctly light-headed. And when Konan bent her head to Sakura's sex and _licked, _Sakura felt like _she _was floating, as well.

The blankets were thrown off the bed and the sheets were crimped and the pillows were flattened when they moved around so much, but they kept their voices down and tried not to breathe so loud. Konan moaned too loud when Sakura ran her hands over her nipples lightly, and Sakura made a gasped too loud when Konan positions their hips and legs and hands just right to rub against her in a rhythm, mocking actual intercourse but feeling just as good, if not better. It took them the better part of an hour to find a place that worked perfect, where Konan was having trouble breathing and Sakura wasn't faring any better.

Konan came quietly, shuddered, closed her eyes, but Sakura came on a slow, prolonged moan, high-pitched in a way that made her feel like she _was _just a helpless, innocent girl.

When they lay back against the bed, the hopelessly messy bed, it was colder than they remembered.

When they got dressed silently and Konan unlocked the door discreetly, they plotted. Sakura's secret was safe, and Konan was happily indulged in a kiss that shoved her against the wall and almost prompted another session. Konan would not tell a soul, but Sakura was not permitted to write more letters, or she would be exposed. Leaf and all of its purchase would come for her just as soon as the reports stopped coming, but until that, Sakura stressed, they should make the best of it.

Hidan walked in on them, at one point, Sakura pressed against the wall this time, and his mouth dropped. "Lesbians," he cursed. "Lesbians! You're kidding me! Only two women in this whole damn place and they're _lesbians."_

But the word seemed harsh to Sakura, and she justified it by saying she was attracted to anything with a pretty face. Hidan smoothed back his hair and gave a charming grin, and Sakura laughed. Konan was not smiling.

The night after that went largely the same way, starting with Konan and her heavy cloak and ending with Sakura and her disordered bed. The next night followed the same path, and the next night, but the night after that they sat in the living room and ate dango together that Itachi had brought from some far-off, hard-to-pronounce village. The night after _that _they fell asleep talking about shitty past relationships, and the day that ensued that was spent cooking and washing some laundry and folding origami and painting fingernails and combing hair and trying on clothes and kissing and hugging and licking and sucking and panting and gasping and moaning and other girly things like that.

So Sakura never would have figured that things would turn out this way, but she was sort of glad they did. And besides, the situation did not loom so much as float inauspiciously above her, and she found that to be rather attractive anyway.

Konan and Sakura waited patiently for angry Leaf shinobi to knock on their door.


End file.
